Sign of Weakness
by yellowcrayon7
Summary: Post-Somalia Ziva visits Tony in the night and finally allows herself to step out from behind her facade of complacency.
1. Chapter 1

It was after 2300 when Tony DiNozzo looked up from his cheap action film at the sound of knocking on the door. He paused the movie, threw off the fleece blanket he had been curled under, and set down his Budweiser.

Tony opened the door to see his favorite Israeli, her head bowed against the rain. "Hey, Probie, what's up?"

Ziva spoke in the soft, questioning way she had developed since returning from Somalia, saying, "Can I come in, please?"

Tony stepped aside, frowning. "Uh, sure. I'm about halfway done with Die Hard, but I've got both the sequels, too, if you want to watch, and there's cold beer in the fridge…"

Ziva stepped past him as he shut the door, her head still low. The rain on her jacket glowed in the dull light of Tony's apartment. "I need to stay with someone for a little while," she said. She turned, meeting his eyes for the first time, and reached to her side where her gun was holstered. She held it out to him. "Take it. Please."

"Okay, sure," Tony responded, hesitantly. "Are you okay? What happened, Zi?" He took the gun from her hand and laid it on the table by the door, then placed a hand on her shoulder to lead her to the couch. When he felt her shoulder tense at his light touch, he lifted his hand.

"Sorry," she mumbled. She threw her coat over a chair and sunk into the couch, crossing her arms in her lap.

Tony sat next to her, turning his body to face her. He craned his neck to try to see her face between locks of her curly hair. She had not straightened it in days. "Do you want to talk, or something? You aren't thinking of doing anything—"

Ziva lowered her head into her hands and was quiet for a moment except for her deep breaths. Her shoulders shook gently, and it took a moment for Tony to realize she was crying. "Hey, Ziva, it's gonna be okay, you just gotta tell me what's going on." He reached up to place a comforting arm around her, but thought better of it.

"I'm sorry," she gasped. "I'm so, so sorry." She let herself collapse into Tony's arms sobbing louder now. He pulled her into a gentle hug, stroking her hair with his thumb.

"Shh, Ziva, it's okay. You don't ever have to apologize, remember, it's a sign of—"

"Weakness. I know. I'm weak."

"No!"

She extracted herself from his embrace and wiped her face with her sleeve. "I am, Tony, I let them take me and beat me and hurt me and… violate me."

Tony shifted on the couch. "Ziva, they didn't..."

She nodded, shuddering with another sob.

"Listen, you're not weak. Ziva, you're the strongest person I know. And you can't ever tell Gibbs I said that. But to go through what you went through in Somalia… I could never imagine. I was only there for a few days. I don't care what they did to you, you're still Ziva. You're still my ninja assassin chick, and we're still family."

She giggled a little at the ninja comment, and then frowned. "But, I left you."

Tony took her hand in his. "That doesn't matter now. You can get through this. I know you can. When that bastard pulled the sack off your head I can't even tell you how happy I was to see you, alive."

"I would have been better off dead."

Tony squeezed Ziva's hand. "No, Zi, because I couldn't have gone on living without you. I meant it when I said that."

"I just. I don't know how to keep going any more. I don't know how to be a part of this world. I cannot sleep, I cannot stop thinking about it all, I just can't—" She broke off and began to cry softly again. Tony pulled her emaciated frame close to his chest, letting her lay her head on his shoulder. He felt her warm tears seep through his t-shirt.

"Ziva, are you thinking of… doing something? To yourself?"

She stopped crying but he didn't let go of her. "It's just so hard. I am so tired, Tony, and every time I close my eyes I see him. I just wanted to make it all…stop."

"Listen, Ziva, if you really don't trust yourself not to do anything dangerous, then maybe you should talk to a professional."

She sat up to look at him. "I don't need a professional right now. I need a friend."

"Okay," Tony said, his voice low. He stood, and offered her a hand, leading her into the bedroom. He pulled an old OSU t-shirt and gray plaid boxers out of the closet and laid them on the bed. "Put these on, it'll be more comfortable. You can sleep in my bed for the night, I'll take the couch. Let me know if you need anything."

He turned to leave. "Tony?" she asked.

"Mhm?"

"Could you maybe stay with me tonight… as in close? I- I don't want to be alone."

"Of course. I'll let you get changed first."

She opened the door a few minutes later. The shirt hung loosely off her shoulders, and the short boxers revealed the scars crosshatched up her legs. The insides of her thighs were bruised, Tony noticed, holding back a cringe. "I guess we should go to sleep then."

The two lay down on Tony's unmade bed. Ziva pulled the covers tight around her. She was curled in fetal position, facing him. "Tony?"

"Mhm?"

"Thank you."

Ziva leaned forward so her head was resting on Tony's shoulder. "Goodnight, Tony."

"Goodnight, Ziva." He reached his arm around her and held her tight to him as they both fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Next chapter will have more Tiva interaction and be longer, I promise. **

When Tony woke up to the sound of his 0600 alarm, he was alone. The sheets beside him had cooled but there was a faint imprint in the pillow and a few strands of Ziva's dark hair stood out against the white cloth.

He followed his ordinary routine, but with a new kind of urgency: shaving, dressing, brushing his teeth, all before his backup alarm went off. He stopped at Starbucks on the way, as usual, and stepped out of the elevator at exactly 0702.

"You're on time. Well, almost," McGee said, frowning. "Weird."

"Just… psyched about the case."

McGee's frown increased. "Um, it's over. Abby matched the prints to the guy whose father our victim shot six years ago. They brought him in this morning."

"For questioning?" Tony asked hopefully.

"No… for good, I guess. There's way too much evidence against him for his case to win in court. We don't even need a confession."

"Okay, then. What do we do now?"

McGee shrugged, turning back to his computer. "Boss isn't here yet. Ziva's down in the lab sorting through the evidence, you could go help her."

"Sure, uh, yeah, I think I'll do that." Tony headed back to the elevator as McGee watched, head tilted in confusion.

When Tony entered the lab, Abby and Ziva were sitting cross-legged on the floor whispering across a giant pile of paperwork. "What are you two ladies talking about?" he asked, grinning.

Abby raised her eyebrows and said with a nonchalant smile, "Nothing that interests you."

Ziva pushed her hair behind her ear and leaned forward, grabbing a stack of paper and sifting through it quickly. "Need some help with that?" Tony offered.

She remained absorbed in the documents and said, "No, we are fine here, thank you."

"Okay then. I'll just… go upstairs and wait for Gibbs." He stood in the doorway with his hands in his pockets for a moment. "Coffee? Caf-pow? Anyone?"

Abby raised her hand. "Yes, please."

"Ziva?"

She raised her eyes, frowning. "What? Oh, no thanks." She returned to her work and Tony exited. As soon as she had heard the elevator doors slide closed, Abby spoke.

"So what was that all about?" she asked excitedly.

"What was what all about?" Ziva's voice was distracted and dispassionate.

"Tony! He was being all awkward and gentlemanly. Are you guys… is there like a thing going on that no one told me about? Because I have my ways of finding out about this stuff. No way you're keeping something like this from me."

Ziva rolled her eyes. "Abby, we are completely not having any kind of 'thing.' I don't know what you are talking about, but I assure you, Tony and I are really just friends."

"For now, anyway." Abby grinned suggestively.

Tony walked in shaking a massive cup of Caf-Pow. "For the lovely forensic scientist," he said, handing it to her. "And are you sure you don't want anything? You must be tired."

"And why would you say that?"

He stumbled over his words. "Just, um, long day yesterday, draining— emotionally, that is… it's really early…."

"Thanks again for the offer, Tony, but I got coffee on the way here."

"Ah. Got it." Tony backed out of the lab and once again, Abby pounced at his exit.

"What was that?! He is so into you. Or you're into him. I don't know which yet, but I don't know why I hadn't figured it out before, you two are just so cute together!"

"Calm down, Abby, I told you there's nothing going on." She stood up, walking to the counter and leaning against it.

"Exactly, nothing yet! Do you want me to hook you up?"

"No! No, Abby, seriously, let's just drop it." Ziva gripped the counter and bent her head forwards so that her loose hair fell across her face.

Abby shifted her position on the floor. "Hey… hey Ziva, what's wrong? I'm sorry if I hit a nerve or something, you know how I always just get carried away with stuff…"

"No, it's okay. You are right. Tony and I are more than friends. We are like family, really. The past few months have been very hard for me, and I just need to have someone who can be there, always, without all of the extra… baggage."

Abby nodded earnestly. "Okay, I get it. I didn't realize… I'll stop bothering you about it."

"Don't worry about it. Just no 'hooking' us, okay?"

Abby smiled and nodded vigorously. "Deal."

Ziva matched her smile and said, "I should probably get back upstairs now, there is bound to be some new case or something. Good luck with all of this paperwork." She headed for the door.

"Hey, Ziva?" Abby called.

Ziva turned, leaning against the doorframe.

"I'm glad that you found what you need."


	3. Chapter 3

Time passed, and the team fell into their usual routine: Tony teased Ziva, Ziva teased Tony back, he scowled, she laughed, McGee rolled his eyes, and Gibbs slapped them all on the back of their heads. This time around, however, Tony would catch Ziva's eye as her giggling wound down, grinning with a kind of genuine admiration.

Three weeks after Ziva spent the night at Tony's, the two were sent out to investigate a possible suspect in a double homicide. Man and woman, complete strangers, living in different neighborhoods. The victims' houses had been packed with explosives and detonated one after the other, and the team suspected it had something to do with the second victim's husband, who had been away from the house at the time of the murder. Friends had reported that the marriage was going through a rough patch.

Snow was falling heavily as Tony and Ziva pulled up alongside the house. The husband, Jack Richardson, was staying with his sister-in-law and nephew down the street from his own demolished house. It was dark, but there were a few lights on inside. They rang the doorbell a few times, and when no one answered Ziva motioned for her partner to kick down the door. He did, and they entered the hallway, guns drawn, only to hear someone screaming from upstairs.

The two sprinted up the stairs and into the first room on the right. It was the boy's bedroom, and he was standing in his crib, crying loudly. The window had been thrown open, and the drapes fluttered in the cold wind. Ziva followed the child's gaze. In the middle of the floor was the sister-in-law, her eyes ablaze with fear, strapped to a flashing timer that was counting down from sixty.

"A bomb," she said, drawing in a sharp breath. "Okay, Tony, you take the kid, get him to a safe distance. I'll disarm it and get the mother out."

Tony opened his mouth to speak, but Ziva shouted, "Go!"

He lifted the kid out of the crib and ran. Ziva approached the bomb slowly. "It's going to be okay," she whispered, trying to keep her voice calm.

The woman was crying now, and sobbed through her thick tears, "Just go, you don't have to die with me."

Ziva knelt next to the woman. The clock read thirty seconds. "Neither of us is going to die." She pulled her knife from its sheath at her waist. She gently lifted the wires, trying to determine their colors by the red glow of the timer, which now read fifteen seconds. She found the right wire and closing her eyes, cut it. She held her breath.

The timer flashed for a moment, and went black. Ziva let out the breath and helped the woman unstrap the bomb. "See, everyone is okay."

The woman pulled Ziva into an unexpected hug, saying, "Thank you, oh my god, thank you so much…."

"It was no problem." She led the woman downstairs, and into the cold where Tony was waiting across the street, the child in his arms. The woman ran towards her son. Tony handed the boy to her and she clutched him to her chest, crying now in joy, rather than fear.

"Nice job," Tony whispered to Ziva, but she was distracted, her eyes searching the woods behind the house. She drew her gun. "What are you…"

"Watch them," she muttered. She moved towards the edge of the woods, but Tony grabbed her arm.

"Wait! What are you doing?"

She spoke with urgency. "I saw him. Running through the woods."

"Listen, he's already anticipated our move once before, and we know this guy's willing to kill his own family, a kid no less. I'll call for back-up."

"He'll be long gone by then!" Ziva gritted her teeth, squinting through the trees in an attempt to find him.

Tony turned away to get his cell out of his pocket, and Ziva spotted the figure in the distance. She took off running after him, and when Tony looked up again, had already disappeared in the foliage. "Ziva!" he called in a sharp whisper.

For a moment he could hear her muffled footsteps, and then there was silence. His own breaths seemed loud, and they made a cloud of condensation around him. He waited.

Two shots rang out. Tony's breath caught in his throat. He broke off towards the woods, shouting, "Stay here!" back to the mother and child. He had just entered the woods when he saw Ziva headed towards him, gripping a tree for support. She was bent, and her hand was clutching the side of her chest. Blood dripped into the snow, leaving a trail of slushy pink. "Oh, god, Ziva." He raced towards her, taking her in his arms.

"I am alright," she said, her jaw clenched in pain. "I shot him in the leg, but he shot back."

Tony's arm encircled her back, and he found himself almost carrying her as the two hurried out of the forest. "I called back-up, they're on their way and they're sending an ambulance. Just hold on for another minute, okay?"

Tony stopped at the edge of the street when it was clear Ziva's strength was waning. She fell forwards, kneeling in the snow, breathing heavily. He knelt beside her, placing his left hand on her back and lacing his other hand through hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She squeezed back, hard, as the sirens whistled by in the distance. "Hear that? They're almost here."

"Tony," Ziva said, coughing slightly, "This is not the first time I have been shot."

"I know." He rubbed his hand in little circles on her back. She was shaking, he hoped from the cold, but maybe from shock. He tried to remember first aid, but all he could see as the ambulances pulled up were Ziva's eyes, wide and glassy with tears. She leaned into him, her head resting against his shoulder as she gasped for breath. The EMTs climbed down from the ambulance and rushed towards them, carrying a stretcher.

"The man is… woods, about… kilometer that way." She pointed weakly as the paramedics lifted her into the stretcher. The woman and her son were wrapped in gray blankets and led into the ambulance. Tony watched as it drove away, lights making patterns of blue and red in the snow where Ziva's blood was seeping into the ground.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I'm sorry it took so long, everyone! Thanks so much for all the reviews and alerts. Hope you enjoy. Also, I know ATVA is fictional and all credit goes to Aaron Sorkin and West Wing for that one, but I'm borrowing the idea for my story.**

The world came into focus gradually. Ziva slowly became aware of a warm pulse in her chest, and the sting of clean air forced into her lungs. Some part of her was aching, so severely that she couldn't find the origin of the pain. There was a dullness to the hurt, too, and she recognized the taste of morphine next to the tang of blood and the familiar taste that comes with falling asleep without having brushed her teeth.

This was not death, she reasoned, and though her faith rarely focused on life after death, Ziva found herself pondering the afterlife often in recent years. Too many brushes with death and she had started to wonder what it all meant. The idea of a Heaven comforted her only slightly. There was a frightening permanence about the whole concept, and permanent things scared her.

No, Ziva thought, as her senses began to surge up from beneath the blanket of pain. She was not dead. There was something heavy over her, it seemed, and it would have been difficult to breathe but for the plastic tubing in her nostrils that poured cool air into her throat. There was a smell of unwashed hair and sweat and iron badly masked beneath comforting scents of bleach and an array of other disinfectants. A needle was taped to the back of her hand, and there was a stiff bandage across her chest.

This was a hospital. Probably Bethesda, based on the condition of the linens, the threads of which itched against her wrists and neck. She strained to hear the rush of sound she knew to be the intercom and distinguished nothing alarming enough to make her think that she was in the ICU. Unable to determine any way to calculate how long she had been asleep without simply asking, Ziva forced her eyes open.

She blinked several times before the ceiling came into focus. There were soft voices in the room, which she recognized as McGee's and Abby's, arguing gently. "Come on, Abby, you need to go home and get some sleep," McGee was saying.

"No!" the pathologist whispered shrilly. "I'm not leaving, okay? You've been here longer, anyway, and I wouldn't be able to sleep, not now, not while Ziva's lying there all helpless."

"Hey, now," Ziva started, her voice a croaking slur at first, "I resent that."

The pigtailed woman screamed. "ZIVA! Ohmygod, I can't believe it you're awake! McGee, go tell a doctor," she said in a rush.

Judging by the sound of quick footsteps, McGee obeyed. "How long have I been…" Ziva asked, lifting her non-IV hand to feel for the edges of the bandage.

"Two days," Abby replied, her voice shrill with worry. "How are you feeling? Do you need anything?"

"Water," Ziva decided firmly. "My throat feels like quicksand."

Abby laughed, reaching for the mauve pitcher next to the bed. She pressed a button on the bed rail that made it lean forward, so Ziva was lifted into a sitting position. "I think you mean sandpaper."

Ziva nodded, thirstily gulping at the water through a straw. When it was gone she set the pitcher down and took a deep breath, wincing a bit as it stretched her recently collapsed lung. McGee rushed in with the doctor, a tall man with a long face that made his eyes look slightly drooped, who broke into a mad grin upon seeing Ziva awake. He checked her vitals, asked a serious of what seemed like entirely irrelevant questions, and left, giving her a solid pat on the shoulder.

"Excuse me." Ziva looked up at the voice, feeling the pain in her chest lessen slightly at the sound. Tony was skirting around the doctor in order to enter the room, balancing three cups of coffee.

"Ziva," he said, and blindly handed the cups to McGee, who struggled to keep from dropping all of them. "You're awake." He couldn't keep a smile from crossing his face, and neither could Ziva, who had to take a shuddering breath to keep from betraying all of her emotions.

"Yes, finally," she said. "Two days, for a single gunshot? My father would be so disappointed." She grinned at the look of concern and bewilderment on the senior agent's face. "Just a joke," she mumbled.

Tony laughed and came all the way into the room, stepping over to the bed and grasping her hand with his. "God, I am so glad you're okay."

Abby nudged McGee and said pointedly, "Wanna help me find some Caf-Pow?"

"I think I'll just wait—"

She cut him off, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the door. "It'll be fun." She shut the door behind him and Tony allowed himself to sink into the chair next to the bed, still holding Ziva's hand.

"Tony," she breathed, tentatively, "I am not as glad as I should be that I'm okay."

He opened his mouth to speak, but the sound of the door slamming open interrupted him. Gibbs stood there, his usually flat hair windswept. He was breathing heavily. Tony quickly let go of Ziva's hand, putting on a smile to cover his concern and fear. "Hey, boss."

"Abby told me you were awake. Ziva, were you trying to get yourself killed?" His voice had less of the usual accusatory tone, and sounded genuinely worried.

Ziva shot a glance at Tony, who started to speak before she could respond. "Come on boss, she just woke up. Can you at least wait until she's off the morphine drip before the lecture?"

Gibbs huffed, but conceded. "DiNozzo, can you give us a minute? No lectures, I promise."

"Sure," Tony said with some hesitation. He stood and exited.

Gibbs took a seat beside Ziva and spoke deliberately. "Ziva, do you know what the American Trauma Victims Association is?"

"If it is what it sounds like, I do not think I want to know."

He ignored her and moved on. "They help victims of traumatic situations come to terms with their experiences. I made you an appointment with one of their specialists tomorrow."

Ziva sighed. "Gibbs, I do not want to talk to some shrink about my feelings. I didn't ask to be shot."

"You did when you went into the woods without waiting for backup."

"He would have gotten away!" she argued.

"And you wouldn't be lying in the hospital completely useless. You're meeting with the specialist tomorrow."

"No, I am not."

Gibbs leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, until he was within inches of her. "Then you can't work for me anymore."

Ziva bit her lip, trying to stop the spill of angry and pained tears.

"Listen, Ziva, you aren't okay and I know it. If you're gonna be on my team, I have to know that you're not gonna be looking to get killed, understand?"

She nodded, the tears coming freely now. "I understand." Gibbs placed a soft kiss on her forehead and left the room.


End file.
